What They Fear
by Salysha
Summary: A spoof on the many fears of the Fellowship. Frodo is the normal one with only a bad case of arachnophobia; it is Aragorn who takes the cake. Involves the whole Fellowship.
1. The Fellowship Goes Round the Bend

**Disclaimer**: The Lord of the Rings belongs to the Trustees of the J.R.R. Tolkien Settlement. This is nonprofit fan fiction. No copyright infringement intended.

**Notes**: This is a comedy piece that uses the names of the characters, places, and events from The Fellowship of the Ring. That's about all there is left from the original book and movie. Thus, the characters' characters are out of character, if you follow my meaning.

**Introduction**: The Fellowship of the Ring consists of fearless warriors and bold hobbits, of that I have no doubt. However, deep down even these brave men have their fears. Takes place in the Golden Woods of Lothlórien.

* * *

**What They Fear**

by Salysha

* * *

**Part 1 of 2: The Fellowship Goes Round the Bend**

"Aaargh! Get it off me, get it off me!"

A terrible shriek echoed in the Golden Woods of Lothlórien, where the Company had set camp. Everyone turned to Frodo, who was screaming like someone being eaten alive. He seemed to be waving his arms at nothingness, but Sam, who stood the closest, saw the reason for the sudden outburst: a huge spider was hanging from its delicate cobweb mere inches from Frodo's face. Sighing, Sam grabbed the offensive animal and tossed it away. The Company stared at Frodo with varying degrees of disbelief.

Frodo looked away and muttered angrily, "I don't like spiders. Let's leave it at that."

"Certainly," came the less convinced replies from different directions.

Occasional stifled giggles and sudden coughs aggravated Frodo, who gazed at the others sternly and continued, "Everyone has his phobias. It is perfectly natural." He intensified his message with a slight nod.

It was, of course, Sam who felt obliged to answer. "But of course, Mr. Frodo. Perfectly natural, as you say. It is just that, after all we've been through, a spider doesn't seem much of a threat to me, if you take my meaning." Sam quickly turned away from Frodo's withering gaze.

The sudden desire to take his anger on someone overcame Frodo's normally good-natured character, and he said in honeyed tone, "You are right, Sam. That was just a bug and nothing more. Say, is that little beetle over there one of those that ate your whole crop last year?" He pointed at a random spot on the ground.

"Insectus Catastrophus? In here? I'll teach that little bug!" With that, Sam drew his sword and began slashing the pointed spot with all his strength. The Company watched in horror as Sam made it through the outer vegetation and stopped only upon reaching solid rock.

"That blueberry bush will never bother us again!" commented Legolas and burst out in joyful laughter, along with the others. Sam's face shifted from pink to beetroot, and he fled from the scene.

"Aren't you and good old Sam just something?" giggled Merry from the bottom of his heart. "That was a dirty trick you played on him, but there is nothing as fun as having fun on Sam's expense. He takes everything so seriously, _if you take my meaning_," he said, giving a fair imitation of Sam's favorite line. That evoked hearty snickering all around, and especially from Pippin.

Boromir shook his head and decided not to waste a delicious opportunity to tease the hobbits just a peak further. "Merry, Pippin. You seem unoccupied at the moment. We have to collect firewood and carry water here. How about you come with me so we can get some work done?" The hobbits' faces fell at the mention of the w-word, and Boromir continued with mischief that wasn't lost on anyone except Merry and Pippin.

"Not to worry. I spotted a river just a few miles away, right on the other side of those little hills." Boromir pointed at a peak that would have put the Misty Mountains to shame. "It should not take too many hours. I am certain we will make it back before nightfall."

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, with sheer terror written all over their faces. They got up and Pippin blurted out, "We've got to go check up on Bill." They made a hasty and not so dignified retreat. From behind them, they heard almost hysterical roams of laughter, but decided to ignore them and flee until they were barely within earshot.

* * *

_Back at the camp:_

"If I'm not sorely mistaken, we parted ways with Bill days ago," grumbled Gimli, trying to keep a straight face.

"We have practically pitched camp in the river, for heaven's sake. You just couldn't resist, now could you, Boromir?" That was Aragorn. He scowled reproachfully at Boromir and glanced at the clear current running fifty yards away.

"I know we have, but they don't. That's the idea."

"There is no need for more firewood, either, since some stranger has left behind more than a month's supply," Legolas added, pointing lazily at the nearby pile of firewood.

Frodo kept quiet, but was inwardly relieved, since no one seemed to mind his earlier mishap. He looked at Boromir thankfully and was rewarded with a conspiratorial wink.

Not even Aragorn had the heart to stay angry for long. Instead, he took note of the suddenly lightened atmosphere and decided it was best to let the jesting continue. Far away, he saw a small dust cloud rise into the air, and an idea entered his head. He turned to Legolas with hopes of conveying nothing but sincerity.

"Oh, my..."

"What is it?" Legolas asked with a sudden concern.

"Oh, my..."

"What? What is the matter?"

"Can you see that cloud of dust over there? They are coming. The first ones must be very near, for I can hear their voices."

"What are you talking about?"

"Fan girls. Lots of them."

Legolas started to look very anxious, provided that the Elves were capable of looking such.

"Why don't I sense anything? Why cannot I sense the utter evil approaching?"

"You do not sense because you don't want to. They are very close now; I can make out their words." Aragorn paused to take a breath and continued, "They are screaming, 'Legolas, Legolas,' and then something else that sounds like 'Leggy.' Legolas, do you have any idea— Legolas? Legolas?"

The elf had vanished into thin air; there was no trace left of him. Of the present company, only the ranger had a keen enough hearing to make out a few brushing noises from the tallest tree in the area. The brushing noises were, undoubtedly, produced as the result of someone climbing up, someone who was not afraid of falling or painful scratches.

The Company had now been reduced to Frodo, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli, who was laughing his head off. "Those Elves!" he cried heartily. "It is amazing what you can feed them, and still they believe your every word. Master Aragorn, you seem to have developed a taste for jesting!"

"Thank you very much, Master Dwarf," Aragorn replied, bowing lightly. He grew suddenly serious. "There is something I wanted to discuss with you, Gimli. I thought it would be best not to mention this at the presence of Legolas, since the Elves can be rather sensitive about certain things."

"You can say anything to me, Aragorn. The Dwarves are known for their rationality."

"Now, you see, Gimli: we lost some of the more personal gear at the last camping site. I am afraid that you and Legolas are going to have to share the comb and the toothbrush from now on. Do not worry; you can have both to yourselves, since the rest of us have no need for such things."

The expression on Gimli's face was priceless: it was that of shock and disbelief, mixed with more shock and disbelief. "Nooooo! Not with the Elf!" he cried out loud and clear. _That gave our position away to those few in Middle-earth who didn't know it already, _thought Aragorn grimly. He could have sworn that the tree nearby shuddered from repulsion. _Cursed elves and their sensitive hearing,_ Aragorn swore. _Now we'll never get him to come down. _

"Now, Gimli, I am certain that you and Legolas find it in yourselves to behave like allies and gentlemen—" He was cut off short.

"Never! I will go and kill a porcupine and make a new comb of its spines for myself. Never mind my teeth, but by Balin's grave, I will not return before I have a comb not touched by an Elf!"

With that, Gimli strode off with a raised axe and a murderous look in his eyes. _Good thinking, Gimli, go hunt with an axe,_ congratulated both Aragorn and Boromir silently.

Frodo was too astonished to think, least of all to commend Gimli's tactical decisions. All three remaining members came to the silent conclusion that the Fellowship was breaking. Aragorn was thinking about arranging a betting pool on the probability of Gimli succeeding versus Legolas coming down someday in the next few decades, but gave up on the thought. _No reason betting almost impossibility against most unlike possibility,_ he decided.

Boromir, however, was lost in quite different thoughts. He was certain that he would be Aragorn's next victim and wondered what the ranger might try to do to him. Boromir was not so much as worried as uneasy and decided boldly that attack was the best defense.

"You have given quite a start to this Fellowship, Aragorn. I wonder what you have in store for me." Aragorn merely shot him a strange glance and continued his own musings.

Boromir.

Boromir looked around startled, but found no signs of the woman who had just called his name. The ranger and the hobbit had not even noticed, since they were too lost in their own thoughts. _My mind is playing tricks on me,_ he decided, unconvinced.

Boromir.

There it was again, that same female voice calling him. The others still had not noticed. "What kind of witchcraft is this? Come out and show yourself," Boromir hissed barely audibly.

Aragorn heard that and peered curiously at Boromir, but then shrugged it off. _If Boromir wants to talk to himself, then let him. Hopefully he has an interesting conversation,_ Aragorn mused dryly.

Boromir, listen to my words. I am only in your mind, where the others cannot hear you. 

_What are you and what do you want from me?_

I am Galadriel the Lady of Lórien. You have entered my realm and are obliged to listen, Boromir son of Denethor. 

_I am listening, Milady._

I have seen the future, Boromir son of Denethor— 

_Will you quit saying that! It's Boromir._

Icy silence.

_Milady?_

As I was saying, I have seen the future, Boromir. I fear it will not be bright for you, for this quest will claim your life. 

_I have sworn to protect the Ring-bearer. If it is my destiny to fall, so be it. Why have you come to warn me, Milady?_

The future is grim, man of Gondor, yet hope remains. I have foreseen that before your death, Aragorn son of Arathorn kisses you.

"What?" Boromir cried out. Aragorn and Frodo gave him startled glances.

That I have seen to take place. That will be all, Boromir son of Denethor son of— 

"Enough!" yelled Boromir.

_Now there's a man who likes his own company,_ Aragorn mused. Aloud he said, "Had an interesting conversation, Boromir? Care to share it with the rest of us?" He leaned in slightly.

"Stay away from me, Aragorn!" shouted Boromir, alarmed. "Stay away, I say!" With that, he took off running screaming something incoherent about preferring Ringwraiths and plague to that son of—

Aragorn was taken aback and turned to Frodo. The hobbit gave a shrug and went on with his business. _On second thought, let the man be,_ decided Aragorn. _Maybe I should offer him brotherly compassion and concern afterward._ Satisfied with himself, Aragorn went on his way to lend Gimli a hand or, more precisely, a bow, in some serious porcupine-hunting.

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

**Many thanks** to everyone who has reviewed the story over the years! Special thanks to **Ganheim** for the detailed corrections. While the story remains modernized in tone, I hope that time has not completely killed the humor.

**Layout updated and grammar revised lightly** July 5, 2008. Revised 2010.  
**Published** August 31, 2002.


	2. Aftermath or Payback in Elven Style

**Notes**: The second part of "What They Fear" involves references to actual people and places as well as a few intentional illogicalities concerning the flora and fauna of Middle-earth. The characters are still out of character. Disrespect toward anyone or anything aforementioned is unintentional.

* * *

**Part 2 of 2: Aftermath or Payback in Elven Style**

Legolas had been hiding in the tree, waiting for the manic fan girls to come after him. When no one came, he relaxed, and as the blind panic passed, he began to think straight. In the light of the few comments he had been able to hear from his hiding place, it seemed that Aragorn had made the whole thing up. Legolas' regal blood began to boil. None made fool of the Elves, especially of an Elf who was privy to many secrets. In the years Legolas had known Aragorn, he had spotted only one weakness, and he intended to use it to get even. He climbed down and went on to track down Aragorn, who had gone after Gimli.

* * *

Boromir stopped running when he thought there was enough distance, and paused to think. This Lady of Lothlórien was a powerful sorceress, that much he knew, but even a sorceress could be wrong, right? If he was to alter his course of action, the future would surely be changed, and he could avoid his horrid destiny. Boromir was not referring to death, for surely some things were even more frightening. He only had to convince Aragorn that the interest was not mutual. Unconvinced that the subtle hints would do the trick, he decided to take the matter directly to the ranger. Satisfied with his newfound resolve, Boromir went on to look for Aragorn, after making sure he had his sword tightly hanging from his side and his shield within an easy reach, too.

* * *

"Fool of a porcupine!" Gimli shouted and swung his axe angrily. "You have spines enough for all the Dwarves, and you cannot share!" The porcupine he had found was not cooperating, and since it was only a young one and slightly injured, it chose to hide inside a deep, porcupine-sized burrow on the ground. Gimli hadn't been able to sweet-talk the porcupine to come out, and was now losing the last of his patience. Frustrated, he threw his axe to a nearby tree and spent the following minutes getting it down from the tree.

Meanwhile, the poor animal had already escaped Gimli's rage, for it was no fool, and Gimli turned his attention to other spiny animals. He decided to go after hedgehogs and started surveying his surroundings with enthusiasm.

Just then, Aragorn caught up with him. "Any luck, Gimli?" he inquired, taking in the dwarf's uncombed hair and beard. _Guess not,_ he answered his own question.

"The game here is extremely cunning, Ranger. Almost cunning enough to challenge the wits of a hunting dwarf!" Gimli snapped indignantly.

_The challenge,_ Aragorn thought dryly. Aloud he said, "If you wish for hunting company, I could come with you. It would double the chances." _Quadruple, more like it,_ he added silently.

Gimli paid little attention to him. He had spotted something interesting a mere fifteen yards away and was moving towards it silently as a hunting dwarf. A mile away, Legolas rubbed his delicate ears and shuddered.

"Gimli, just what are you doing?" Aragorn snarled impatiently. "Will you leave that wet muskrat alone? You won't make much of a comb out of him."

"What do you mean, Ranger? Can't you see all those lovely spines in its fur?" Gimli eyed the obviously hearing-impaired muskrat hungrily.

"It is wet. Of course it has spiny fur!" snapped Aragorn in frustration.

"Nonsense, Aragorn! He is just the way muskrats are in dwarven realms." That shut the Ranger's mouth. He stared at Gimli, then at the muskrat, then back at Gimli. _Ignorance is bliss,_ Aragorn decided, and strode away from Gimli and Gimli's dwarven muskrat.

* * *

Pippin and Merry decided that it was finally safe to venture back to the camp. They found only Frodo reading there.

"Where is everybody?" cried Merry.

"I don't know. They took off, and I haven't seen them since. I've been reading Freud's _The Interpretation of Dreams_."

"I though his name was Fraud," commented Sam, who had come to make an appearance at the camp.

"Nah, it's Freud. Can you believe the things he writes?"

"Hey, if the book is about dreams, maybe you could explain something to me," exclaimed Pippin suddenly.

"Sure, Pip. Have you had interesting dreams lately?" asked Frodo with a self-appointed shrink in his tone.

"Now that you should ask, a week ago I—" Pippin started and continued with an half an hour explanation about a dream where he had been an orphaned Ringwraith, who had been raised by the Elves, but who felt there was an emptiness inside him. Thus, he had fled away from the Elves and married a horrid Dwarf maiden. Together, they had had even more horrid children that were all missing either the upper or the lower part of their bodies. Realizing that he could never have a normal family, the Ringwraith had fled again and ended up as a salesperson in Seven Elven, an yet more horrid elven grocery store chain. Pippin ended his story and looked expectantly at Frodo, who had stayed silent while the story had lasted. "Well, Frodo. What do you make of it?" exclaimed Pippin, unable to restrain himself, when the silence continued.

"I think I am not the one to answer that question. Maybe you had better consult Mr. Frau— Freud directly." Frodo tossed the book to Pippin, who started to eye it happily. He had already forgotten his previous question. Frodo gave sidelong glances to Sam and Merry and then shrugged it off. He had heard weirder things before; he just couldn't remember where or when. He dug out another book from his backpack and concentrated on reading Freud's _Psychopathy of Everyday Life_.

* * *

Aragorn was striding back to the camp, silently cursing Dwarves, Elves, and muskrats, and everything else he could think of. He was blissfully ignorant of his two pursuers, Legolas and Boromir, who had both arrived within his eyesight from different directions.

"Aragorn."

Aragorn stopped abruptly and surveyed his surroundings to see the man who had just spoken to him. Seeing his apparent confusion, both Legolas and Boromir halted and waited for his next move. Aragorn kept his hand tightly on the edge of Andúril, in case he was facing an ambush.

"Estel, do you not see me?"

There was that voice again. There was something very familiar about the voice, but Aragorn couldn't place it. He thought hard and took his best shot.

"God?"

"Quit fooling around, Estel. It is I." The voice was getting frustrated. Just then, Aragorn saw it: Gandalf was standing a few feet away from him. The wizard was suspiciously transparent, but it was still Gandalf.

"Gandalf!" he cried. Further off, Boromir heard his shout, but could not quite make out the words spoken. Aragorn was obviously talking to someone or something. Remembering what had happened earlier, he realized that that damned witch Galadriel was now talking to Aragorn son of Arathorn— _Stop right there, Boromir!_ he reprimanded himself. _Let's not get into that. _

_Boromir. _

_Milady?_

_I am not a witch. _

_Of course you are not, Milady. Never said you were._

The silence was icy.

_Milady?_

_I will let it pass this one time, Boromir son of Denethor. _

_My apologies, Milady. It will not happen again._

_Very well, Boromir son of— I heard that! _

_Apologies, Milady. It's Boromir._

_Very, well then, Boromir. About my previous prophecy—_

"Will you be quiet already!" Boromir yelled hoarsely, loud enough to startle the hobbits back at the camp and Gimli the hunting dwarf to have a flashback of a dying orc's death rattle. Aragorn and the slightly otherworldly Gandalf gave Boromir a look and continued their discussion.

"What are you doing here alive and, furthermore, what are you doing in that?" Aragorn pointed at Gandalf's nightgown-like costume and nightcap in shock.

"Let's just say that rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated. And these are my leisure clothes. Like them?"

"No. What rumors, for Valar's sake? I **saw** you die."

"Very well, stubborn Dúnadan. Believe what you will. I have come to warn you of a great peril on your journey."

_Now, there's something new,_ sighed Aragorn. "Yes?"

"One of you will fall. You must prevent this. Get close to him and get him unburden his heart."

"Who?" _Let it not be Gimli,_ Aragorn prayed silently. He had just had enough of Dwarves for the time being.

"There is only one other of the race of Men in the Company. For the sake of you all, reach out to him, before it is too late."

"It is Boromir, then." _Finally, the news was good._ Aragorn sighed with relief.

"Only one Man besides you, and he is the one you must befriend."

"Must you talk riddles? We both know it's Boromir. And while you are at it, where did you put all the combs? We are having a situation here."

"Seek this one Man before it is too late. Now, I must be on my way." The already transparent Gandalf began to fade even more, and Aragorn reached for his sleeve.

"Not so fast, Mithrandir. You will tell me where you put those combs, and I will let you go."

"Plague upon you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, if you do not release me."

"The combs. Where?" demanded Aragorn, grinding his teeth.

"They got stuck in my beard, and I left them there. Goodbye!" snapped Gandalf. Aragorn let go, and the agitated wizard disappeared.

* * *

Legolas had quietly observed Aragorn and Boromir's confrontations with the invisible with unconcerned amusement. _Men,_ he sighed. _Lord Elrond had no idea what he talked about when he said that we must place our hope in them in the battle against the dark forces. If they are your friends, who needs enemies?_ Seeing the men finish their respective discussions and start moving again, Legolas set off to meet Aragorn. It seemed that Boromir, too, was heading to the ranger, but that did not bother Legolas. _The more the merrier,_ he chuckled.

Aragorn finally noticed Boromir and he decided that it was a perfect time to approach the man. They met and sat down in unspoken agreement. Boromir was slightly uncomfortable to have Aragorn sit so close beside him, but decided against moving further away. There was no reason for discourtesy when breaking the news to the wretched man.

"Boromir."

"Aragorn."

There was silence.

Boromir took his courage in both hands. "It seemed to me you had a little talk with the witch, too."

_Boromir. _

_Not now_.

"I prefer talking about the wizard instead of witch, but yes, I did. I had no idea you two had spoken." Aragorn was surprised.

"We have. I heard some rather alarming things," Boromir said tentatively.

"As did I."

There was silence.

"Boromir, I want you to know that I am with you, whenever you wish to discuss this," Aragorn said and looked Boromir straight in the eye.

Boromir shuddered inwardly. _It seems that the witc— lady was right after all. Why is he looking at me with such pleading eyes? No way, brother. I am not going there. _"Aragorn, you know you have my utmost respect, but I fear I am not interested."

"Don't dismiss it 'til you try it, Boromir. It might be very illuminating for both of us." There was that look again.

"I fear my mind is already made up. Do not take it to yourself, Aragorn, for it has nothing to do with you." _I said it, now I leave. So far so good, Boromir._ Boromir stood up, as did Aragorn.

Legolas had been listening to the conversation and decided to show himself. _No need to be hasty here. Revenge is a dish best served cold,_ he thought. _Besides, the Elves have the patience of an . . . elf? Never mind, _he reprimanded himself. Aloud, he inquired,"Am I interrupting something here, gentlemen?"

To the already-spooked Boromir, it sounded like "gentle men," and he shook his head vigorously. The Ranger, in turn, was caught off guard and uttered an unconvincing "no."

The three of them waited in silence, and Boromir moved to take his leave. _Now or never,_ decided Legolas, and spoke aloud the one thing that should never be spoken in the presence of Aragorn son of Arathorn.

"Sock puppets!" he cried.

Aragorn acted with speed that would have made any Elf envious. He screamed like a Ringwraith on fire, looked around wildly and sought any kind of protection. In one swift movement, he ran straight into Boromir's arms and wrapped his arms around the poor Gondorian's neck tighter than a constrictor.

Boromir reacted with a speed rarely seen among Men: he yelled in terror and dropped Aragorn flat on his back. After that, he ran away, screaming something that sounded like 'filthy' and 'stained for life.'

Legolas watched the play, laughing his head off in a most unelven manner.

The sudden blow knocked the wind out of Aragorn and gave him time to come to his senses. He knew exactly who to thank for his new backache and he also knew why. "I guess we are even now, elf boy?" he said in a hoarse voice.

Legolas turned to Aragorn with sparkling eyes and uttered between bursts of laughter, "We are, o' fearless Dúnadan."

"Lend me a hand, elf. I can't get up."

"But of course."

Legolas grabbed Aragorn's hand and pulled him to his feet with one graceful sweep.

Aragorn stood, catching his breath, but one look at Legolas' joy made his lips twist. Before he knew it, he was laughing himself. Eventually, they calmed down enough to return to the camp.

Suddenly, Legolas stood still and listened intently. Aragorn halted, too, but he was unable to hear anything out of the ordinary. He turned around, and when he turned back, Legolas was gone. "Legolas? Legol—?" Then he heard it, too: the sounds were distant but they were getting closer. Aragorn could hear ecstatic voices repeating time after time, "Legolaaas. Legolaaas. Leggyyy." He shook his head in exasperation, but then heard another slogan, and his skin turned ashen. Some of the voices, though they were quieter, kept repeating, "Aragorn. Aragooorn. Strideeer."

The fearless Dúnadan fled.

**THE END**

* * *

Review, please. It takes only a minute of your time, but it brightens up my day.

**Many thanks **to everyone who has reviewed the story over the years! Special congratulations to all who spotted the sock puppets reference and placed it correctly with _The Simpsons_ (season 6, episode 11, _Fear of Flying_).

**Layout updated and grammar revised lightly **July 5, 2008. Revised 2010.  
**Published** September 4, 2002.


End file.
